End of This
by Indigo Mind
Summary: Maggie is down once more... and this time, she takes somebody else with her... Again, it'd be nice to get a review from anybody who reads this...:)
1. 'Cause I Can't Leave And I Can't Stay

1 End of This  
  
2 Part I: 'Cause I Can't Leave and I Can't Stay  
  
"Hey honey, would you hand my bag to me?"  
  
Abby handed her her purse, glancing at her, her eyes as sad as ever.  
  
"Thanks," she stated, feeling guilty for making Abby so sad. Oh, Abby sure knew the way to drop a mood, Maggie thought.  
  
"Abby." she started, trying to find a way to cheer her up. "I love you, you know that, right?" Maggie gave her an apprehensive look, studying her face, trying to get a grasp of how sad she was.  
  
No response. Maggie decided to give it another shot. "Abby?"  
  
A sigh. Well, that was a start.  
  
"Abby, please talk to me."  
  
Another sigh. Then, she opened her mouth to speak. "Maggie, I'm afraid of going crazy."  
  
There it was. And Maggie was hurt. Like me, huh? she thought to herself. Do you think I'm crazy on purpose? But then again, Abby looked so sad that it changed Maggie's heart once more.  
  
"What - what do you mean by that, Abby?"  
  
Abby sighed and sat down. "Mom, I've been feeling depressed."  
  
Maggie's eyes turned away, trying to guess what it was wrong, thought she kind of knew already. She couldn't get the thought that Abby had called her 'mom' instead of 'Maggie,' as she had done for so many years. She couldn't remember the last time Abby had called her 'mom,' and it felt good to be addressed that way once more.  
  
"Not because of you, but because of this fucking world." Pause. "I love you, Mom."  
  
Those magical words melted Maggie's heart, and she burst into tears. "Oh Abby."  
  
"Mom, would you move with me to someplace warm?"  
  
It sure enough convinced Maggie, but then - then the Dèja Vu came. Oh, so this isn't real this time either? Maggie cried out. This time, she refused to wake up. She somehow sensed that she wasn't where she was supposed to be, not that she was ever, but this time it felt different.  
  
A chilly wind came from somewhere and crossed Maggie's bare legs as she realized she was outside, sleeping. Oh what the fucking difference, she thought as she tried to picture that cute Abby again in her mind. But then the taste of drugs appeared on her tongue, and she felt her stomach, heavy as if it were made of lead, and she was dizzy. Am I going now? Please God, please, please, please please please. Please don't let Abby find me. Please let her somehow get through her life. And please, finally, let me go.no more waking up, ple-  
  
Then nothing. It had finally ended in Maggie's favor.at least for now. 


	2. Blown Away By Herself

End of This  
  
1 Part II: Blown Away by Herself  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I usually get a good number of reviews, but this fic was an exception. Nobody had reviewed it. So, because this is really about how I feel sometimes, even more than the other fics, I hope I could get some reviews from anyone who reads this, good or bad, I want 'em both. Just what you feel of this.  
  
  
  
What? No…" Abby mumbled into the phone, trying to get the picture.  
  
"She is your mother. Maggie Wyzcenski, found on a street in New Jersey. I'm certain of it — Abby, please —" Kerry Weaver was truly sorry. She almost felt that even *she* had a better relationship to her parents than Abby did, though she had never even known them.  
  
Abby sighed on the other end; her whole life she had feared that this would happen. Now when it actually did, it was like seeing a childhood monster reappear her new life.  
  
"Look, Doctor Weaver —"  
  
"Abby, take some time off. We'll have someone to cover for you. We understand."  
  
"Okay" Abby whispered into the phone in thin voice. She placed the phone back in the cradle, and walked to the window. Her Saturday, totally ruined. This day, never to be the same. Her life, totally screwed. Why, why me, why…? There were only few words she could think now. Why… why, Maggie…why… But she didn't even listen to herself now, because she already knew the answer. Maggie was — no, had been depressed. And she had been depressed because of me, she thought, because I betrayed her. And now she was in Perth Amboy Hospital, and had a piece of paper attached to her toe that read: "Margaret Wyzcenski, 1946-2002." Some serial number, which would lead you to small file: "Died of an overdose. Found on a street. Has one daughter, Abby Lockhart, and a son, Eric Wyzcenski. History bipolar disorder, depression, and other mental illnesses." It sounded so cold, like she had been only a piece of interesting garbage found on street. No, sorry, she was just one of those people who's bodies were found every day on a streets. Faceless, and if lucky enough, some wallet or ID with them, so that their family could be informed.  
  
Dead dead dead dead dead…what an ugly word. Always scaring the hell out of Abby, and now, when she was already in thousands of pieces, it became even bigger and stronger to step on her. As if Death himself were saying, "Ha, ha, I got Maggie, what are going to do now? Are you gonna quit, like her? Then I can have you too?"  
  
But there was no need for that. Abby was already ready to quit, to surrender to the depression. She couldn't care anymore. Never.  
  
***  
  
Abby woke up the next morning, and for a few seconds, she felt good. Then she remembered Weaver's voice on the phone again. And thousands of sights of her mother, laying on her bed, motionless, laying in the hot bath with her head under the surface, those bloody wrists jutting out of the tub on her birthday… And every time it had been Abby's job to call 911, to stick her little fingers down her mother's throat to get the bad drugs out, to stop the bleeding with her scarf. And every time Maggie had sworn it'd be the last time she'd do anything this stupid, and every time Abby knew it was a lie. Every time Abby had been so scared that it might be the end, and every time she was relieved to hear from the doctors that it wasn't. Only this time was different, she thought, the pressure of giving up on everything building the more she thought things through. Now, it sounded like a perfect idea, since her mother didn't need her to pull her up anymore.  
  
The thought of suicide suddenly didn't sound so strange anymore. Actually, it was very delightful. Abby was already going crazy, she hated to be herself, and this was the perfect way out. She couldn't change her mind cowardly and come back now. The loss of one bizarre mind felt so good that Abby actually laughed. Yeah. One problem less in the world. And SHE didn't have too many people who would feel devastated about her death, so Eric could handle that by himself. And so would anyone else.  
  
The explanation was simple: my mom's dead, so I don't have to live for her anymore. Easy. Giving up. And she wasn't sad anymore, actually she was very eager to get away. She smiled. She laughed. She found a kitchen knife.  
  
2 Less problems. Easy options. SOLVED things. Ha, ha, I got away from the whole world! I don't have to face ANYTHING anymore! And all that sadness and sorrow died with her. How easy it was, how glad she was. How she rested with this thought, with blood quickly escaping her veins. No more pain, no more gains. No more sacrifices, no more guilt, no more tears. No more anything. Hell, she had it better figured out than any Buddha would ever have. And she died smiling. Yep, Merry Christmas to you too. 


End file.
